


Don't Buy Plastic Models in Recycle Shops

by Selyann



Category: Gintama
Genre: Androids, Drama, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-21
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-11-26 07:04:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/647874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selyann/pseuds/Selyann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a man; a man who looked familiar, and yet unfamiliar at the same time. They could not be the same person, even if the resemblance was striking, hair and eye colour excluded.<br/>‘Who are you?’ he asked coolly, tipping his straw hat back.<br/>‘Kintoki Sakata,’ came a reply. ‘How may I help you?’</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hide Your Sex Dolls Before Your Mother Finds Them!

**Author's Note:**

> A new Gintama fic. I don't even, how come I wrote this in one day without trying too hard and yet I struggle with everything else. I feel sorry for those waiting for the next chapter of my DRRR!! fic ... but I love Gintama harder. So, I present a new story.
> 
> Just in case you ask: I'm not telling you if there'll be any pairings or not. It's a secret.
> 
>  **Warning:** Spoilers for manga chapters 372-380/anime episodes 253-256. And often completely unfitting chapter titles.

_He had had that dream again._

_A dream of what was, what might have been and what would never be._

One late afternoon in summer, he found himself roaming the streets of Kabukichou for the first time in a while. He could remember the last time he had been there and the memory of what had happened back then made a smirk tug at his lips, but not strongly enough for it to last for more than a few seconds.

Midway through crossing a bridge, he broke step and leaned against the wooden railing, reaching into his sleeve as he cast his gaze upon the river which was flowing almost soundlessly beneath his feet. The setting sun adorned the buildings with a reddish hue, evoking feelings of warmth and peace in most – yet his expression seemed morose and thoughtful as he lit his kiseru and placed the pipe between his lips.

The tobacco seemed to have a soothing effect on him, for Takasugi looked somewhat less tense as he parted his lips to blow a puff of smoke into the air. This fact, however, would hardly be noticed by anyone, since he was wearing a straw hat and it cast shadow on a good part of his face, resulting in his features being indiscernible to a regular passer-by.

Takasugi knew that being out in the open put him at risk of being caught. However, he had confidence in his abilities and wits, so he was certain he would be able to deal with any potential trouble. He had escaped the Shinsengumi countless times already, and the police were but a bunch of fools who would stand no chance against him. And as for the elite, the Mimawarigumi ...

_Very well. How about becoming my email buddy?_

He let out a low chuckle at the memory, finding amusement in Isaburou Sasaki’s suggestion. After a few minutes of smoking leisurely and gazing into the distance, he put his kiseru out in order to place it back inside the sleeve of his purple and gold kimono. Takasugi took one last glance at the kids frolicking on the river bank before straightening up and tipping his straw hat forward as he resumed his stroll.

As he roamed the streets and alleys at a relaxed pace, Kabukichou’s dwellers seemed to pay little attention to him. This was not particularly surprising, seeing that he had mostly lived in Hagi and Kyoto in the days not spent on the battlefield or on board his ship. The acquaintances he had in Edo were few – Gintoki, Katsura and not many more – and other people would most likely choose to remain ignorant of his being one of the most wanted criminals. He was well aware that Kabukichou was notorious for housing various criminals and social outcasts, so the possibility of anyone alerting the Shinsengumi of his presence seemed relatively low.

As Takasugi walked down the dirty streets without any particular destination in mind, a metallic smell hit his nostrils at one point in time and it grew stronger the closer he got to one particular building. He could hear _clanks_ and _clangs_ coming from its direction and he narrowed his eye lightly. He took hold of his katana’s hilt as a precaution, ready to draw it should something happen and, with his curiosity peaked, he broke step in front of the building. However, he saw no one there and the building’s front door was slid shut. At the same time, the strident noises kept coming from the inside, and Takasugi’s gaze was drawn up to the sign above the door.

His lips curled up in a small smirk at the sight and his hand left the katana. He was on the point of leaving when the front door slid open in an unceremonious manner and a person hove into view.

It was a man; a man who looked familiar, and yet unfamiliar at the same time. His build and posture reminded him of a certain annoying person, and when he came closer, carrying a gigantic chunk of metal as if it was as light as a feather, his facial features became more defined.

What he saw filled Takasugi with slight discomfort, for the face looked almost exactly the same as he remembered it – but it could not have been the same person. Not with azure eyes, not with golden hair this sleek and straight as a die. They could not be the same person, even if the resemblance was striking, hair and eye colour excluded.

The man seemed to notice Takasugi, because no sooner had the metal been disposed of than he started walking in his direction, wiping his hands on the light grey boiler suit he was wearing.

And for some reason, even in such a filthy outfit he still managed to look dazzling, especially with that welcoming smile that he had flashed the instant he had directed his steps towards the samurai.

 To Takasugi it felt almost nauseating, but he did not let it show on his face. Instead, he loosely wrapped his hand around the hilt of his katana once again, narrowing his eye as the distance between them decreased.

‘Welcome, sir.’

Those were the first words to have left the man’s mouth and Takasugi was once again reassured that the two were different people.

‘Who are you?’ he asked coolly, tipping his straw hat back.

‘Kintoki Sakata,’ came a reply. ‘How may I help you?’


	2. Familiar Faces aren’t Always a Welcome Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want to know where I’ve been until now ...
> 
> I’ve been on standby. /kicked
> 
> I’ve had most of this chapter done for such a long while that I almost feel bad about taking so long to publish it. I’ve finally decided to finish it and update. So, here it is. It might have been longer, but I decided to split what I had originally planned for it into two chapters, after all. Shorter chapters make me feel less intimidated when I’m loaded with other work. Ahaha ...
> 
> Oh, by the way: the POV won’t be limited to Takasugi’s, although it _will_ mostly be his. I will, however, keep it consistent (i.e. one chapter - Takasugi’s POV, another chapter - someone else’s; no switching in the middle of a chapter), so hopefully there’ll be no confusion. :)
> 
> Now to update other stories ... oh dear.

‘Kintoki Sakata?’ echoed Takasugi and regarded the man warily.

No further reply came from the figure standing in front of the samurai. The man who had called himself ‘Kintoki’ merely continued looking at him with an unfaltering smile; a smile which, Takasugi noted, did not quite reach his eyes.

Takasugi narrowed his eye. He was on the point of asking the man to elaborate when another _clang_ – this time one considerably more irritating to his ears, courtesy of the door being open – drew his attention away from the peculiar stranger in front of him. His gaze fell on the building’s entrance once again just as a voice called out Kintoki’s name loudly, followed by someone emerging from the inside.

‘Kinnoji!’ shouted the person, appearing in the doorway. ‘I need a hand with –’

The person, now revealed to be a balding male, broke off in the middle of the sentence. His eyes were hidden behind goggles but doubtless he was staring right at the shorter of the pair outside. Perplexity was clearly visible on his face as he stayed rooted in one place.

‘Gengai Hiraga,’ said Takasugi languidly, a smirk tugging at his lips. ‘What a surprise.’

The man, Gengai Hiraga, looked as though he was torn between saying something and retreating to the safety of his home. However, after a moment of tense silence in which Takasugi stared at him with a mildly challenging smile, Gengai finally uttered hoarsely, ‘Kintoki, call the police.’

‘Hmph.’ Takasugi’s voice sounded more amused than angry. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ he said, closing his eye for a brief moment.

‘And why not?’

‘Because ...’ Takasugi began, walking towards Gengai and taking off his hat in the process. When he was close enough, he bent down to the man’s ear level and breathed: ‘You’re now a fugitive yourself, aren’t you, old man?’

Takasugi proceeded to the front door and leaned against the wooden frame, scanning the inside of the building with interest. ‘Trying to assassinate the shogun is no petty crime, after all.’

Gengai turned to look at him, a stern expression on his face. ‘You talk as if you had no involvement in that,’ he remarked dryly.

‘Oh, and did I?’ Takasugi gave a lopsided smile, more to himself than to anyone else, since he was facing away from Gengai. ‘I don’t remember forcing you to do anything.’

Still standing in the same place, Kintoki listened to the conversation and observed the pair. From the corner of his eye, Takasugi saw him shift and eventually start walking towards the entrance. He turned his head to look at the golden-haired man, a small smile still playing on his lips.

‘In any case,’ said Takasugi, stepping into Gengai’s workshop, ‘there’s something I want to talk about.’

Suddenly, a strong hand gripped his left arm as if to prevent him from entering any further. The hold was much more forceful than necessary and he narrowed his eye, dropping the hat and once again beginning to consider drawing his sword. Instead, he turned to look at the person behind him.

‘Hey, you,’ said Kintoki, ‘I think the old man said he didn’t want to see you.’

Takasugi smiled sardonically. ‘Oi, oi ... Is that how you treat someone who took your own son under his wing?’

The words were clearly directed at Gengai, although Takasugi did not break eye contact with Kintoki.

‘Saburou is dead and will never come back,’ stated Gengai blankly. ‘I don’t have any business with you any more.’

The words caused Takasugi’s smile to falter, and his expression became cold. ‘He’s not the only one,’ he replied, his voice hollow.

There followed a moment of uncomfortable silence in which the three of them merely stared at one another. Kintoki’s eyes remained on Takasugi for the most part and Takasugi returned the gaze. There was something about those dead-fish eyes that he found unsettling, but he could not put his finger on it. They were very much like Gintoki’s – and equally hard to read – yet they were different at the same time.

It intrigued him.

After a while, Gengai finally said, ‘Let him go.’

Kintoki’s gaze shifted to the man and he asked, ‘You sure?’

‘Yeah ... it’s fine.’

The grip on Takasugi’s arm loosened and the samurai invited himself further into the workshop. There were spanners, screwdrivers and various burners lying about on the floor, alongside some mechanical parts which had yet to be attached to something. The room was far from neat and he could feel the smell of oil in the air. Unpleasant as it was, he tried to ignore it and moved across the workshop, carefully avoiding the clutter, and leaned against one of the walls.

‘I’ll deal with it, Kinnoji. You can go and change already. We won’t be doing more work today,’ said Gengai as he crouched and picked up a screw, examining it with scrutiny.

Takasugi produced his kiseru from the sleeve and lit it again. When Kintoki left just as instructed, he blew some smoke out and let a small smile tug at his lips.

‘Well?’ asked Takasugi. ‘What is he?’

Without turning to face him, Gengai answered warily, ‘My assistant, Kintoki.’

‘I expected that much.’ Takasugi narrowed his right eye. ‘He said his name was Kintoki Sakata. That’s not a coincidence, is it?’

‘What is it to you?’

‘How mistrustful you are ...’ he said with a smirk. ‘I’m just curious, that’s all.’

Gengai put one of the spanners back in a tool box and said bitterly, ‘Somehow, I doubt that.’

Takasugi sniggered, but said no more, placing the thin pipe between his lips again. Gengai did not look pleased with his continuing presence when he turned back to face him, but Takasugi was far from caring – in fact, he was not even looking at the man.

‘What have you come here for?’ asked Gengai with a frown as Takasugi continued smoking. ‘Because surely not for small talk.’

Takasugi’s smile faltered for a brief moment but it reappeared almost instantaneously. ‘Let’s leave it for now.’ He looked Gengai straight in the eye, his gaze sharp. ‘I’m more curious to know what he is.’

Gengai went back to gathering his scattered tools, visibly reluctant to answer his question. ‘Kintoki is Kintoki,’ he said. ‘That’s all you need to know.’

The reply did not come as a surprise to Takasugi; he had expected that the man would refuse to elaborate. The lack of reply did not discourage him, for there were many other ways he could obtain that sort of information if talking did not work.

However, none of those would be necessary, because a few minutes later footsteps sounded from the direction of the staircase.

‘Oi, old man! A screw must’ve come loose and fallen out while I was working!’ Kintoki called out.

And in he came, emerging from the door –

‘Got any spares?’

– with his head under one arm.


End file.
